"Five years ago, if someone had told me I'd have a child at
private school, I'd have laughed. I'd have said I resented parents
buying privilege through private education.
That was before I
became a parent. When my daughter, Katy, was about to turn three, I had a
dilemma. Although we had a lovely childminder, I felt Katy needed to
start mixing with other children in preparation for school. She was
offered a place at the nursery attached to the primary school I had my
eye on, but the two-hour daily sessions were not practical for me as a
working mother. I did not want Katy to be shunted from nursery to carer.
She'd had a difficult start in life, born almost three months early,
weighing just over two and half pounds. She was a quiet child who often
found new situations stressful, so I didn't feel that was right for her.
Then I heard that the local prep school offered 8am-6pm hours and holiday care – something rare in state schools.
On my first visit, I was struck by the welcoming atmosphere. The
nursery manager made me a coffee and sat and talked to me about my child
– a real contrast to other schools I'd seen. I felt Katy would be
looked after here. I enrolled her immediately. The plan was to transfer
her to our local "outstanding" state primary at five.
What I
hadn't appreciated was just how much the nursery was part of the school.
Katy went to the main school for assemblies, and for lessons in French,
music and IT. As she began to flourish, I started to get a sick
feeling. How would she cope with transferring to the state primary
school, which had almost as many pupils in a year group as the whole of
Katy's school? When the application forms for a school place came from
the local authority, I threw them away.
Katy is now at the end of
year 1 and, having spent her first year of school in a class of 11, is
achieving way beyond expectations for her age. I don't regret my
decision one bit, but I've done a lot of soul-searching. There have been
snide comments that have forced me to question some of my beliefs. I've
been asked how I can reconcile writing about education for the Guardian
with having a child at a private school. I remember reading about Diane
Abbott's decision to send her son to the £10,000-a-year City of London
school. She said she was a mother first and a politician second, a point
that resonated strongly with me.
While I am an "accidental"
private school parent, deep down I don't think I ever really had a
problem with private education. It just didn't seem socially acceptable
to say so. In fact, as the first in my family to finish school with any
formal qualifications – never mind go to university – I think I secretly
always thought it was something to aspire to. Having escaped a coasting
comprehensive for grammar school in my teens – an experience that
opened my eyes to a different kind of future – I know first-hand how
powerful education can be to individuals as a vehicle for social
mobility.
When I walk Katy to school in her straw boater and
blazer, I sometimes sense people – particularly other parents – judging
me. But I wonder how many of them have engineered the system to get
their child into the school they want.
By sending your child to
private school, you are using the means you have – money – to get the
right education for your child. But the state sector is full of parents
buying advantage. They kid themselves that what they are doing is
somehow morally superior. The truth is that every person who moves house
to get into a catchment area is playing the system. So are those who
pay private tutors, or consultants to help with school appeals (both
booming businesses). Parents who suddenly discover a faith in God to get
their children into a certain school are lying and cheating. There will
be people reading this – including some loyal Education Guardian
readers – who have done some or all of these things.
The fact is
that for every parent who plays the system to get their child into a top
school, a child from a less advantaged background is likely to lose
out. At least I am not limiting anyone else's choice.
Many friends
have confessed that if they had enough money – or weren't happy with
what their local state school had to offer – they would consider private
education. Curiously, most still profess to oppose fee-paying schools.
And
I'm inclined to agree to with the historian Niall Ferguson, who argued
in the recent BBC Reith lectures that the UK would benefit from more
private education institutions as greater competition would incentivise
the state sector to up its game. After all, he says, "Nobody is going to
pay between £10,000 and £30,000 a year for an education that is just a
wee bit better than the free option."
I believe social mobility is
about giving more young people access to privilege – not taking it away
from those who have it. The comprehensive system is built on the
premise that every child has the same needs – an attitude that
encourages mediocrity. Bright children who enjoy academic learning
deserve the chance to be educated with like-minded peers. So I think the
Sutton Trust charity is right to call for the return of state-funded
places at independent schools (a practice abolished by the Labour
government of the late 1990s) giving more children from disadvantaged
backgrounds the chance to learn at schools ranked among the best in the
world. It's not about elitism or separating sheep from goats. It's about
recognising that all children are different and that academic
qualifications are not the only route to success. Not every child sees a
traditional, academic education as a privilege. Many would far rather
go to a school that offers high-quality technical and vocational
education that meets their needs and interests. With schools under
increasing pressure to meet targets and boost their performance in
league tables, not nearly enough is being done to meet the needs of
these students.
And the argument that shutting down private schools
would create a more equal education system seems flawed to me.
Supporters of this idea often point to the example of Finland, which
abolished private schools in the 1970s. In this country, with our
complex social class structure and one of the biggest pay gaps between
rich and poor in the world, abolishing private schools would mean the
most affluent would simply create their own "elite" within the state
system, paying a premium for properties near good schools, pushing house
prices up and lower earners out of the catchment area. If housing
statistics are anything to go by (latest figures from the property
website primelocation.com show that the prices of homes near good
schools can be inflated by up to £92,000), many are already doing this.
I've
visited countless schools over the years, and what has always struck me
about private schools is that while each one has a slightly different
feel, underpinning that are always strong discipline, high standards and
a healthy sense of competition – qualities many would argue are also
features of successful state schools.
But what really matters is
size – and this is where the state sector is still getting it wrong. I
spent four years teaching English in secondary schools, and the most
powerful lesson I learned was that what all pupils really need is time
and attention. They want their teachers to know they love skateboarding,
play basketball or sing in a choir. In large classes in sprawling
schools, many feel anonymous, which often contributes to poor
performance and behaviour. When I was teaching, up to 200 children a
week passed through my classroom, and while I made strong connections
with some, there were many more I failed because I didn't have the time
to find out what really made them tick.
There is no doubt that my
daughter's school could do with some updating. In fact, its facilities
are a poor match for local state schools, but the reason it fares better
in the league tables is because resources are directed where they are
needed most – at teaching and learning.
The coalition government's free schools
programme (which allows parents, teachers and others to set up
schools), though not perfect by any means, is an attempt to take the
best bits from the independent sector and reproduce them in state
schools. Many free schools promise smaller class sizes and longer
opening hours. A free school in Norwich, for example, is open six days a
week, 51 weeks a year. This is what more state schools should be doing.
I
plan to send Katy to a state secondary if I can, but if I find myself
dissatisfied with what is on offer, I will go private again. Until local
schools meet families' needs and cater for each individual child, can
you blame people for putting their hand in their pocket?"
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